


linger on me

by revolving



Series: SASO [5]
Category: ALL OUT!! - Amase Shiori (Anime & Manga), ダイヤのA | Daiya no A | Ace of Diamond, 弱虫ペダル | Yowamushi Pedal
Genre: Challenge: Sport Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2017, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 9,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revolving/pseuds/revolving
Summary: summer summer summertime!saso 2017bonus round fills, multi-fandom, various ships. ships & warnings listed for each piece individually.final update 8/29:kuraryou pacific rim au, Tchriszaizen kingsman au, Tsee also:selected br0 fills @ tumblr,br masterlist.





	1. br 1: all out!!, sekihachi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **very mildly implied sexual content, implied violence, brief description of injuries, non-linear narrative**
> 
> so i basically took any fairytale element i even remotely wanted to use and put it all in a blender together. it sort of started out as rose red and the bear prince without snow white but then i just did whatever i wanted tbh. i considered ending it without the last two sentences but then i was like "does that make it sound like hachioji died????" bc he doesn't, so. i added them.
> 
>  
> 
> **prompt:**
>
>> fairytale AU (any fairytale or just the general concept of fairytales. both are wonderful)

sekizan's cape is heavy red, damp, hem soaked with dew, shoulders with sweat. the mountain is shuddering beneath his feet as he climbs, the distant screech of claws on glass pushing him to the greatest speed he can manage on the slippery-smooth terrain. his heart is a klaxon, a rising cacophony of alarm singing _faster, faster, now now now_. overhead, the sun is starting to sink, blue sky fading velvet soft. at sunset, it will be too late.

*

at nightfall, hachioji shrugs out of his bearskin, an ocean of dark fur falling to the floor. sekizan is always startled by how much bulk he loses, the gargantuan bear transmuted to more human proportions. he's still large and round and soft about the edges but he fits in sekizan's arms. there are brambles caught in his hair, bright red scratches blooming across his skin. sekizan touches them with carefully salved fingers, kisses the wince hachioji tries to hide, spreads his palms on the tender, uninjured expanse of skin at the small of hachioji's back when his ministrations shift from restorative to passionate. later, he'll help hachioji pluck thorns from the bearskin, wickedly sharp and as long as his hand.

the tower won today, the sky thick with lightning and green fire, the dark flash of wings. if sekizan closes his eyes he can still see hachioji's great bear shape rising up against the pale and sickly light, black vines lashing as they broke from his limbs. it was too close. sekizan's been through the cycle enough times to understand how it works, the circular dream logic that rules here, but it doesn't get easier.

hachioji takes his hand and sekizan starts, breathes, settles. it's going to be a long night, but they're alive, and together. it's enough.

*

the entire mountain rings, a bell struck with a sledgehammer. sekizan heaves himself over the lip of the last plateau and runs.

*

sekizan's never seen a bear in this part of the woods, much less one this like this, nearly as big as a house and so dark brown it's nearly black. its eyes are narrow and intelligent, vast paws almost delicate as it crosses the meadow. it's been following him for leagues. something is about to change. sekizan can feel it in the air, the faint electric current of fate or whatever wears her clothes crackling across his skin. 

the bear sits down on its haunches when it reaches him, lifts one giant paw in grave and polite greeting. it's as big as his head, but sekizan accepts it solemnly and he could swear the bear smiles. something is changing, and sekizan watches the bear lift its face to the sky, muzzle trembling like it can smell it. the sun slides below the horizon, and the bear starts to change.

*

the light is half gone by the time sekizan reaches hachioji, splayed in the middle of a scorched and splintered patch of glass like a discarded toy, bearskin in tatters. it's the first time sekizan's seen the sun on his face. his breathing is fast, shallow but steady, and he lets sekizan prop him up, stills the half-formed apology on sekizan's lips with a touch of his hand. sekizan's crying, tears hot and bitter in their mouths but hachioji doesn't try to stop him, the crying or the kissing, the bruising grip on his battered flesh.

the bearskin will disintegrate at sunset, blow away like so much ash, but hachioji will remain, great heart beating in his human chest.


	2. br1: yowapeda, fukukin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **smoking, mentions of auto accidents and related injuries, descriptions of scars**
> 
>  
> 
> idek, i tried??? 
> 
>  
> 
> **prompt:**
>
>> Mob AU. Undercover cop Fukutomi investigates crime boss Kinjou's organization from the inside.

things fukutomi juichi knew before starting this assignment: that it would be difficult. long, definitely, most likely exhausting. that the window of time his handler shinkai would have to pull him out if anything went south would be narrow, perhaps nonexistent. that the sohoku group is one of the most powerful organized crime families in the country. that it is currently run by one kinjou shingo, with lieutenants makishima yusuke and tadokoro jin. that kinjou had been involved in an accident, years ago, that left him in the hospital for a month with a half-crushed ribcage.  
  
things fukutomi juichi did not know before starting this assignment: that kinjou shingo's voice is low and soft, deceptively soothing. that his eyes are warm green and terrifying with the killing light in them. that he smokes cigarettes with an entirely invented carelessness. that he wears his suits with sharp creases and neat hems, cuffs resting smartly at just the right length. that his scars are livid angry pink and sometimes peek out from beneath the collar of his pressed shirts, the fine sleeve of his jackets. that it would be so incredibly hard not to look at them.  
  
"i thought you looked familiar," kinjou says, and fukutomi manages not to freeze by virtue of long practice. he knows his face is as blank as ever when he turns to face kinjou, framed by the late afternoon light. they're on the roof for a smoke break, nondescript office building housing nondescript corporations at least half-owned by sohoku.  
  
"oh?" he says. it's been two years. he's worked his way up steadily, but not so quickly as to arouse suspicion. kinjou should know him as headstrong but reliable, a capable gangster with modest ambitions. when the time comes, he'll be promoted, but reluctantly. makishima or tadokoro will go missing and who else will be able to step in, at least in the interim? fukutomi, with a head for numbers and a strong track record. stubborn, but not so much that he can't be controlled. it's a carefully cultivated image.  
  
"you were there," kinjou says, touching his neck, where fukutomi knows there's a scar. it's a scar that spreads the farther down it goes, across kinjou's clavicles and left side, stark against the fearsome ink snake coiling around his torso. fukutomi's only seen it twice, but he can't forget.  
  
"there?" fukutomi repeats, buying time, starting to sweat. it's the weather, he tells himself. it's turning. he's still wearing a winter suit and spring is coming.  
  
kinjou hums, flicks the ash off his cigarette like he knows fukutomi understands exactly what he means. fukutomi's cigarette is burned down to the filter and he drops it, grinds it into the gravel. "i remember your face," kinjou says. "you were sitting on the ground." on the ground, unharmed. the pedestrian that caused a six car pile up. "is that why you're here?"  
  
fukutomi takes a breath, this time to keep himself from relaxing. all right. this, he can deal with. hand it to kinjou like it's leverage. "i don't know," he says, and that's honest. "maybe."  
  
"i see," kinjou says, smile pleasant and not at all reassuring. that's fine. if the hammer comes down like this, fukutomi won't even complain.


	3. br 1: daiya no ace, shunmiyu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **prompt:**
>
>> Magic AU; Shunshin is working as a curse breaker. Miyuki is desperately in need of his services. But all magic comes at a price, and Miyuki must prove that he is able to pay.

kazuya wakes up all at once, room swimming around him in chiaroscuro patches. the light hanging from the ceiling is swinging or the room is swinging or kazuya is swinging, it's hard to tell and he's not wearing his glasses — his _glasses!_ — but there's a firm hand on his bare chest before he can leap up from whatever he's lying on. the face that hovers into view isn't familiar but kazuya places it after a moment. the cursebreaker, yoh shunshin. he seems unfazed, meeting kazuya's eyes without the protective shield of spelled glass between them.

"sorry," shunshin says after a moment, the gentleness of the hand pressing kazuya back down onto the sofa at odds with the brusqueness of his tone. "i had to take a look at what i'm up against."

"well, you know," kazuya says, reaching for the easiest way to disguise the rasp of pain in his voice out of habit as much as anything else, "if you wanted me to undress —"

"spare me," shunshin says, and the hand is gone and his face is gone and kazuya is left to stare at the ceiling as the world slowly rights itself, gravity settling on his limbs like an old coat. his head stops spinning in stages, a top surrendering to torque. his glasses are on a nearby end table when he manages to sit up, and he puts them back on even though shunshin seemed unaffected by kazuya's naked gaze. kazuya hopes it means he's come to the right place. his shirt is draped across the arm of the sofa and kazuya pulls that back on too, conscious of the constant ripple of magic across his skin, the writhing mess of curse marks radiating from his sternum clear to anyone who knows how to look.

shunshin is across the room, bent over a scroll inserted into some sort of mechanical reader, gears ticking merrily as he skims from passage to passage. kazuya studies him for a long moment, the strong line of his shoulders beneath an utterly mundane button-down, the attentive tilt of his head when he finds something he's looking for, the thoughtful purse of his lips. shunshin's the very picture of carefully cultivated competence down to his meticulously filed nails, and most importantly: he isn't dead from counter-acting the curse trigger.

"there _is_ the matter of payment," shunshin says without looking up, and kazuya straightens his shoulders to hide his start, posture going liquid with manufactured insouciance as he strides across the room. "no," shunshin says, just as kazuya puts his hands down on the desk, before he says a word, "not that."

kazuya laughs at that, both delighted and startled, leans down to match the curve of shunshin's back and meet the cool grey of his eyes. "most people jump at the chance for that kind of power," he says.

shunshin shakes his head. "no," he says, voice resonant with truth. "the price for this kind of magic is always something you don't want to give."


	4. br 1: daiya no ace, kuraryou, T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **referenced/implied animal death, referenced/implied character death, brief violence, mention of blood**
> 
> well. originally ryousuke was going to be the church grim bc he's suited for that sort of thing but then i read the thing about black dogs and was like, well. 
> 
> **prompt:**
>
>> church grim AU

there's a black dog in the church doorway. size alone marks it as unnatural, a vast swath of animated darkness, inky and indistinct at the edges. it moves with more than the animal grace of the shape it wears, smooth and soundless, yellow lantern eyes glaring from its amorphous bulk like a warning. there's a growl hanging in the air, less heard than felt, a subvocal rumble that starts at the soles of ryousuke's feet and races up his nerves, reaching for his heart. ryousuke doesn't falter.

he knows what it is, that looming shadow bleeding into the night, teeth and claws as insubstantial as moonlight until they close on someone's throat. haruichi's heavy on his back, dead asleep for the last six miles, ryousuke's legs are sore and tired, and that growl isn't for him. he shoulders past the dog without slowing down. technically the church should reject him, witchblood obvious in his features and his brother's, in the bright blush shade of their hair, but he means no harm and the grim outside likes him. it's not the first time he's had to seek asylum here.

ryousuke deposits haruichi on a pew, pillowing his little brother's head with his own jacket before simply collapsing on the floor, dirty floorboards cool against his sweaty cheek. he should clean up later, ryousuke thinks, somewhere beyond the frenzied rhythm of his pulse pounding in his ears. he should do some maintenance, try to keep the church in good repair. it's abandoned, but the guardian spirit persists and ryousuke certainly owes it that much. outside, the growl intensifies into a snarl, then a baying roar. it's terrifying, and the most comforting thing ryousuke's heard all night.

there's shouting in the distance, close enough to make ryousuke haul himself upright and peer around the pew. the sliver of night visible through the doorway is dotted with the pinpoint flicker of at least half a dozen torches, more than ryousuke was expecting. there _is_ a bounty this time; perhaps he should have known. haruichi murmurs in his sleep but doesn't wake, exhausted by their long flight and his earlier attempt to tangle with untamed magic. he'll be fine, provided they don't both die tonight.

the grim howls again, the sound drawing an echo out of the church bell's dusty, disused throat high overhead. ryousuke should get up and get ready to fight but his limbs are heavy, head lolling on his neck. he closes his eyes for a moment and then pulls himself to his feet.

*

less than an hour later, it's over. the scent of blood lingers though there are no bodies on the ground, just a patch of scorched grass where a torch was dropped before ryousuke doused it. it was the only spell he'd cast at all, the hunting party scattering quickly once they'd realized what they were up against, the church grim's teeth sunk deep into their leader's shoulder. it won't heal without a blessing.

ryousuke's slumped just inside the doorway now, and after a moment the grim moves to join him, suddenly a much more manageable size. the blood on its muzzle disappears as it crosses the threshold, dropping its head on ryousuke's knee for all the world like any dog asking for attention. ryousuke wonders if this is what it looked like before it'd been killed to serve as the church's protector. "good boy," he says, resting his hand on the grim's head, and he doesn't startle at all as the dog starts to shift.

a moment later there's a boy in a ragged black robe lying with his head in ryousuke's lap. ryousuke continues to stroke his hair, spiky and dark, coarse against ryousuke's calloused palm. the grim's eyes are still wild and amber bright, even half-closed in contentment, and ryousuke is acutely aware that he's only able to touch him because the grim wants him to.

"it would be easier to hide if you did something about your hair," the grim says pressing his cheek against ryousuke's thigh in clear demand for continued petting. "you stick out too much."

"it won't take dye," ryousuke says, "i've tried."

"well then you'll just have to live here," the grim concludes, as if it's the only possible solution. ryousuke laughs.

"maybe you're right," he says, eyes starting to close. the grim makes a noise clearly meaning _of course i'm right_ but doesn't try to keep ryousuke awake, settled watchfully across the doorway. ryousuke will have to thank him properly in the morning.


	5. br 1: daiya no ace, kuraryou, T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **implied violence, implied murder, guns, coercion, idk there's just a lot of Bad Stuff implied by the setting but it's only touched on obliquely here tbh.**
> 
> la femme nikita is such a formative tv show for me, of course i gotta do this. to see the scene in question, go [here](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x4pc89g) and skip to 41:15 or so. i deviated from it a bit... honestly i really like this as a chriszaizen scene but i'll never say no to krry.
> 
>  
> 
> **prompt:**
>
>> Spy AU; if Kuramochi really doesn’t want to work for Section any more, Ryousuke suggests, putting Kuramochi’s hand around the gun, pulling the gun flush against his own chest, he knows what he has to do.
>> 
>> Or: it’s a The Femme Nikita AU and let’s hope I remembered the scene in question well enough.

youichi's hand is trembling. "give me one good reason," he says, thumbing the safety off with hard-won ease, "why i shouldn't pull the trigger."

ryousuke takes a step in, then another, closer and closer until his chest is pressing against the gun barrel with light but obvious force. his smile is back in place, cool as ever, but it's one youichi hasn't cataloged yet. there's an unfamiliar angle to it, almost wry, and it feels like like youichi is seeing it from underwater or outer space, someplace he's never been. ryousuke says, "there isn't one." his voice is dead calm. "not a single reason."

youichi's hand is trembling and his finger is twitching on the trigger and ryousuke doesn't move a goddamn inch. youichi's spent the last two years and change being trained into an efficient killer whether he wanted to be one or not, he's learned what soft junctures of the human body to apply his knee to in order to best hold someone immobile, he couldn't miss from this range if he wanted to. ryousuke's looking him in the eye, expression blank of expectation, like maybe it would be fine if youichi killed him like this, like he's not even surprised. _it isn't what i would choose for myself... or us,_ he'd said, just a minute ago, boiling all of youichi's anger and pain off into something cold and sharp and immediate. _us._ what a fucking joke.

"i don't understand you," youichi says, and ryousuke tilts his head, smile going crooked with something like affection or regret. this smile youichi knows, has glimpsed once or twice before. he hasn't figured out if it's genuine or just another weapon in ryousuke's arsenal. maybe it's both.

"we all have things we want to protect," ryousuke says. it's as much of an answer as he's ever given. youichi snarls reflexively at the gentleness of his tone and ryousuke reaches up slowly, wraps his fingers around youichi's wrist. it's almost like he's bracing youichi's gun hand, sights aimed straight at his heart. ryousuke doesn't try to shift youichi's aim as he dips his head down, presses a kiss to youichi's knuckles. his lips are so soft. youichi doesn't stop him as he backs away and turns for the door, gun still pointed at his back. "good night," ryousuke says, and then he's gone, door clicking shut behind him. youichi closes his eyes.


	6. br 1: daiya no ace, christanba, T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **brief description of injuries**
> 
> well... this sort of went the opposite way it usually does for me and got really cute vs atmospheric but ???? christanba is a good ship and should get more love.
> 
>  
> 
> **prompt:**
>
>> Fairytale AU; Chris saves Tanba's life, but is seriously injured in the process. Tanba vows to repay him the debt, even if it takes the rest of his life (or involves overcoming magical trials).

"it's fine, really," chris says, even though he's kind of not, the criss-cross acid burn from poisonous vines lacing his arms and chest, the place on his shoulder where they'd wound themselves tight enough to crush bone. he'll be recovering for the better part of a year, at the very least. his sword arm may never be the same again, but all told chris thinks it was worth it.

koichirou's thin lips are pressed even thinner, an expression chris has learned means that he's probably berating himself internally. "i'm sorry you had to step in," he says, a sentence chris knows has probably gone through a minimum of three iterations before koichirou let it out of his mouth. in the far corner of the room, chris can see koichirou's bow propped up against the wall, quivering like someone's just plucked its string. it's a finicky creature, difficult to wield and terribly sensitive to its master's moods.

"i wanted to," chris says, tone as gentle as he can make it when he's also trying not to laugh, reaching over to cover koichirou's hand on the duvet to help soften the affronted line of his shoulders. he's not laughing _at_ koichirou. not too much, at least.

koichirou frowns but doesn't pull his hand away, the long, angular lines of his face relaxing for the first time since the enchanted tower appeared on the horizon three days ago. chris has always thought that koichirou's main issue is getting in his own way; the ability to use such a weapon is rare to begin with and it's rarer still to be chosen by one. koichirou's sense of his own worthiness matters a whole lot more to koichirou than it does to the bow. the wrinkle between his eyebrows is nearly permanent, somehow endearing in its persistence. chris can never quite decide if he wants to kiss it or smooth it out with his thumb.

"i'll make it up to you" koichirou says, fervent, "even if it takes the rest of my life." he looks noble and determined, with the stalwart set of his jaw and the early afternoon light slanting across his face from the high windows. the effect is only slightly ruined by the red creases on his cheek, evidence of his sleeping at chris's bedside rather than partaking in whatever celebrations the kingdom's been holdling in honor of their newly freed princess. it's adorable.

chris looks at him for a long moment, smile hovering at the corner of his lips, not quite fully formed. "very well," he says dropping each word deliberately into the quiet of the room, "i accept. when should we having the wedding?"

"what," koichirou says, eyes going wide, and it's only chris's grip on his hand that keeps him tethered at the bedside rather than fluttering around the tower room like a startled bird. in the corner, koichirou's bow falls over with a clatter.

"i believe that was a marriage proposal," chris says, in his most infuriatingly reasonable tone, the one he used to practice on his horse before going to his father with something he was sure would be disapproved of, "and i accept."

"i — i didn't mean," koichirou is saying, flushed an incredible shade of red, dropping his face down onto the bed with a groan when chris gives him a look of absolutely placid contentment.

"well, you don't _not_ want to marry me, right?" chris says.

there's a pause. "i didn't say i don't," koichirou says, still face down, voice muffled by the duvet.

"then it's settled," chris says, laugh finally spilling out into his voice, letting go of koichirou's hand in favor of running his palm over the back of koichirou's head, the soft scratch of hair against his palm soothing to both of them. eventually koichirou turns his face to look at chris, color still blooming on his cheeks but otherwise much more composed.

"that was a dirty trick," he says, trying for reproachful and mostly making it, the edge of elation on his tone prompting chris to cup his upturned cheek.

"i figured it was about time for you to make an honest man out of me," chris says, and laughs over koichirou's indignant squawk.


	7. br 2: daiya no ace,  kuraryou, T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **brief gun violence, smoking, mention of alcohol**
> 
> idk i wasn't feeling this round but i figured i had to do sth.
> 
>  
> 
> **prompt:**
>
>> Bonnie and Clyde AU

youichi's never more alive than in the low engine throb of a moonless night, cabriolet roof down to the warm summer air, authorities left behind uncounted miles ago in the rapid helter-skelter rattle of machine gun fire. ryousuke's always been a crack shot, cool under pressure and three steps ahead of the police, peeling out of town in a black hail of bullets and the screech of burning rubber. youichi drives like he was born to do it, the adrenaline-fed beat of his heart swift and true and for no one else in the world but ryousuke.

nights on the run are long and treacherous but there's something about them youichi loves, the landscape flashing by in an infinite dark blur, ryousuke beside him and the road opening up in the glare of their headlights. when they stop, he'll kiss the taste of lucky strikes and bootleg gin out of ryousuke's mouth, push him up against the side of the car and remind them both that they're still alive and on top of the world. they're young and fearless and there's nothing youichi can't face with ryousuke to guard his back.

for now, youichi flicks cigarette ash off into the darkness, stealing glances at ryousuke's face in the backwash of the headlamps. he's always beautiful, and sharp at the edges, vicious in a fight and more tenacious than anyone youichi's ever known, but youichi likes him best like this, relaxed and at rest, their thighs pressed close together on the ford's bench seat. ryousuke's humming something, soft and mostly lost beneath the engine rumble, but youichi catches enough to recognize it: an old song that ryousuke's mother likes, that's become popular again lately in smoky backroom speakeasies. a song about longing and adventure and true love. youichi's grin is wild and bright as starlight, the bone-deep rush of satisfaction rising up beneath his skin almost as familiar now as the curve of ryousuke's hip against his palm. youichi reaches over and ryousuke obliges him, slides in close beneath his arm. he might fall asleep like this and youichi thinks that would be fine, ryousuke soft and asleep, curled against his side. they're as safe as they ever are these days, the rush of warm air pleasant against their skin, danger lurking in their wake.

the night is dark and quiet, ryousuke's hair smells like cigarette smoke and burnt cordite, and youichi could drive forever.


	8. br 3: daiya no ace, kuraryou, T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **violence toward inanimate objects**
> 
>  
> 
> i don't ship ichiruki at all in bleach canon but if you replace them with kuraryou, oh shit.
> 
> **prompt**
>
>> [orange range - asterisk (bleach op 1)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rk2DNp_SH8)

ryousuke's zanpakuto doesn't change much when he releases it ( _bloom,_ he says, the sword's name siblant and soft and something youichi can't quite catch), pale pink ribbon appearing as the hilt passes behind his palm, floating around him in a perfect circle for a weightless moment before it shatters, shooting off toward the target like seeds of light. ryousuke makes a soft, satisfied noise in his throat, settles into his battle stance with a wide sweep of his arm that youichi has never seen but that seems comfortable and practiced, dangerous. youichi's never seen him at full power, the circumstances of their meeting meaning that ryousuke's been drained, sundered, or bound in some capacity since youichi's known him, and curiosity burns under his skin like an infection.

still, he can't help but posture. "is that all?" he says, part bravado, part _ryou-san, pay attention to me._

"we can't all wield oversized kitchen knives," ryousuke says, disdain marred by the sheer giddiness of his voice. the practice construct is lumbering toward him, slow but clearly threatening, and youichi's palms itch around the hilt of his _oversized kitchen knife_ , months as a substitute shinigami urging him to step in, to protect. "you're the one who's always so worried about looking cool, aren't you?" ryousuke says, looking over his shoulder with a grin that makes youichi's stomach jump. ryousuke snaps his fingers and and the construct erupts into a profusion of blossoms, each flower opening and exploding in a shower of rose-gold sparks, and youichi feels the spirit power behind each one like a sonic boom.

youichi gapes at the smoking crater where the construct was just a moment ago, entire body ringing from the massive release of spirit power. "holy _shit_ , ryou-san," he says, but he loses track of the rest of the sentence, as he turns to look at ryousuke. ryousuke's laughing, hair lifted up off his face by the force of the blast, exhilaration lighting every line of his body and looking happier than youichi has ever seen him. oh, shit.

"if you work harder," he says, turning that smile on youichi like he hasn't just ruined whatever's left of youichi's life for the third time since they met, "maybe someday you'll be able to do more than just beat everything up with that thing."

"hey, i've been doing okay," youichi says, protest reflexive while he's scrambling to get his mind off the curve of ryousuke's mouth when he laughs, and what it might feel like to kiss him. "i saved your ass plenty of times!"

ryousuke flaps a hand. "yes, thank you," he says, "that was _before_ —"

"WHO IS GOING TO CLEAN THAT UP," comes a familiar howl across the the training ground, cutting off whatever ryousuke was going to say.

"oops," he says instead, sheathing his now-dormant zanpakuto and turning neatly on his heel, hands folded behind his back as if he was just passing by. "better make a break for it."

"what," youichi says helplessly, but ryousuke's already pulling him along by the hand and youichi just runs with him.


	9. br 3: daiya no ace, christanba, T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **discussion of death, mention of chronic pain, disability**
> 
>  
> 
> i actually have a mushishi au about miyuki & rei that i've been working on forever but... who knows if i'll finish that, LOL. anyway, tho, i really like chris as tanyuu.
> 
> **prompt:**
>
>> 1\. The Sore Feet Song, Ally Kerr  
> 2\. Uprooted, The Antlers  
> 3\. Blackbird, The Beatles

koichirou straightens his shoulders because he has to, off-kilter without his heavy box of tools and curiosities strapped to his back. chris is looking at him a look of perfect innocence so intense that koichirou feels defensive even though he knows it's entirely false. "you know i can't promise that," he says finally, looking out over the meadow with its wide, mossy rocks and clear blue sky because it's easier than looking at chris. "there are no guarantees in this line of work." 

"i'm still asking you for one," chris says, tone gentle, like he's speaking to a frightened animal. from someone else, it would probably be irritating. "if i manage to get rid of this," — here he shrugs his right shoulder as much as he can, the stiff black shape of the arm that houses the forbidden mushi lifting almost imperceptibly — "in my lifetime... i want you to be there. i want to see all the places you've told me about, together." 

koichirou thinks about that, because he can't not. a chris with full control of his body. a chris unburdened by excruciating pain every moment of his life, who could travel more than a few leagues before needing to return home. a chris who could share his compassion and wonder with the world, who could witness koichirou's stories rather than writing them down. koichirou wants that with every fiber of his being.

"we may be old and grey by then," chris says, pressing his advantage, a gentle ruthlessness koichirou is familiar with, "but we could do it. we could travel. together." 

"i'll try," koichirou says, reluctant but incapable of refusing. "you know that's all i can do. i'm not interested in dying either, chris." it's just an occupational hazard when dealing with mushi. sometimes things go wrong. sometimes koichirou has to skirt the line between life and death to do what needs to be done. sometimes he loses an entire season to hibernation because he chose the wrong time to pass through the territory of a dying mountain god. it happens.

chris smiles, knocking his good shoulder against koichirou's. "try harder," he says, and koichirou laughs despite himself. there's no winning against chris, especially when he's like this. 

"yes boss," he says, and this time it's chris who laughs, leaning into koichirou's side. 

"good," he says. "i knew you'd come around." 

koichirou shakes his head but doesn't argue, letting chris rest his weight against his shoulder. it's nice out today, and he's got more stories for chris, once they go back to the house. more stories to help seal the forbidden mushi into scrolls and scrolls of paper instead of chris's body. "i'll always come back to you, if i can," he says, feeling chris still.

"i know," chris says, slotting their hands together. "i know."


	10. br 3: daiya no ace, kuraryou, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well i'm not entirely sure how i ended up here with this prompt but. here i am. far future fic ig.
> 
> **prompt:**
>
>> Stronger - Clean Bandit  
> Something Just Like This - The Chainsmokers & Coldplay  
> Shelter - Porter Robinson & Madeon

it's 3pm on a sunday and youichi is out in the front yard, wading through a pile of neighborhood children. mrs. yamada from across the street is watching from her porch with an absent sort of fondness, and ryousuke waves at her as he steps outside though he doesn't expect a response. _you really_ could _start a baseball team,_ haruichi had said the last time he was here, watching youich charge across the yard with children hanging off his ankles and biceps. _where did they all come from?_

_around_ is the most accurate answer ryousuke could come up with. it's their third year in this neighborhood. it's both quiet and lively, full of retirees and young children, only some of which cared about the idea that an ex pro baseball player was moving in next door. of course, once word got around that said ball player was pretty cool and more than willing to get down on their level — well, that's how this happened, ryousuke supposes, lowering himself down onto the front step, mug of tea in his hands. 

" _ryou-san!!,_ " someone shrieks, and before long there's a detachment of three children clustered around the stoop, led by a small girl with pigtails and a very serious look in her big eyes.

"yes, emi-chan?" ryousuke says, purposefully ignoring the look youichi is giving him from across the yard. 

"mina told me you said your hair is pink because your mommy ate too many cherries when you were in her tummy but you told me it was _strawberries_." ah, busted.

"i'm very sorry," ryousuke says, calm despite being in the crosshairs of three small faces scrunched up in the spirit of scientific inquiry. "i don't really know why my hair is this color, it just always has been. maybe you can ask my mom the next time she comes visit." 

"when!," emi demands, and ryousuke bites his lip to keep from smiling. 

"i'm not sure," he says. "but i'll let you know, ok?" 

emi nods, satisfied, before taking her posse and diving back into whatever nonsensical game youichi is leading. 

*

"that was a nice touch," youichi says later, ryousuke's feet in his lap and a game controller in his hands, "throwing your mom under the bus." 

"well," ryousuke says, turning a page in his novel. "i suppose i could tell them i'm a witch instead, if you prefer." 

youichi groans. "please don't," he says, pausing to swear at his game for a moment. "they're over here enough, i don't want them hanging around asking you for spells or something. what would we tell their parents." 

"you could tell them i'm a witch too," ryousuke suggests, and youichi clicks his tongue.

"you're a bad influence," he says, tossing his controller down and hauling ryousuke closer by the legs.

"me? what about you, mister hey-i-bet-i-can-lift-all-of-you-at-once?"

"what can i say," youichi says, leaning in over the top of ryousuke's book. "you rubbed off on me." 

"please," ryousuke says, but lets youichi kiss him anyway.


	11. br 4: daiya no ace, shunmiyu, T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **supernatural elements, demons, possession**
> 
> sort of a sequel to the cursebreaking shunmiyu from br1 ig??
> 
> **prompt:**
>
>> "This is a wishing candle," he flicks a coin at it, which hangs suspended in the center of the flame, spinning, turning pitch black―   
> ― @ctrlcreep

shunshin's eyes are cool behind his glasses, unimpressed and unintimidated, the massive spiraling maze of sutra that surrounded him collapsed back into something the size of a stack of playing cards, almost innocuous in his hand. "did you make a wish?" he says, and the demon's face stretches into a grin that's almost familiar.

"that would be telling," it says, tapping the charred coin with one long nail. the coin disintegrates in a puff of black ash and shunshin raises a casual hand, the resulting blast of cold air clearing the room. he knows better than to breathe any of that in. "why don't you try it?" the demon says, looking at shunshin out of miyuki's eyes with a glint that really isn't too far off from the real thing. it _has_ been with him most of his life, shunshin supposes. it's had time to learn.

"no, thank you," shunshin says, sounding bored. _try harder,_ his tone says. it's the same one he would use on the real miyuki.

"c'mon," the demon says, wheedling, and _this_ is where it's making the biggest mistake. miyuki would switch tactics faster, go on the offensive, find a weakness to exploit. of course, shunshin's limited the demon's options, and nothing it could conjure from the confines of the charmed circle is going to get it out. which leaves bargaining, something that's always difficult for a thing that's used to just taking what it wants. "there's got to be something you want."

"oh, there is," shunshin says, listening to the slow, even ticking coming from somewhere in the room. it's been speeding up almost imperceptibly since they started the process. it's time. "i would like you to leave."

the sutra flies from shunshin's hands, blizzard of paper whiting out the entire room, the demon's howl cut off by the sudden hush of falling snow.

*

miyuki's eyes are bloodshot when he opens them, entire body bruised with exhaustion. it's probably not something he wants shunshin to see, but he hadn't given shunshin a contact or brought someone along and it's not a good idea to leave anyone alone after something like that, so here they are. miyuki's been down for thirty-six hours straight, but his skin is clear of magic for the first time in what has to be years and years.

"you've really got to stop undressing me like this," miyuki says, voice a hoarse croak. shunshin scoffs.

"if you keep trying to cover your vulnerabilities with the same joke it just gets sad," he says.

there's a beat and then miyuki laughs, spreading his palm over his sternum, where the master curse mark used to be. "you really are good," he says.

"remember that when you get the bill," shunshin says, and miyuki's laughing again, laughing until his eyes water.


	12. br 4: daiya no ace, kuraryou, T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **brief violence, gun use, mention of gore, unspecified monsters, brief description of an injury**
> 
> ??? idk i haven't written eijun in so long, i tried.
> 
> **prompt:**
>
>> “Ah, those two. In a fight, they’re lethal. Around each other, they melt.”
>> 
>> \- Richelle Mead, The Golden Lily

there's a rush of wings and the bright glint of ryousuke's hair remerges from the mass of writhing shadows, the pale center of a dark flower. his blade is burned clean, gore evaporating in a curling wreath of white smoke. youichi's at his back, steady shotgun blast keeping whatever's left of the hive at bay as their queen falls. eijun swallows, heart lurching in his throat. he'd thought they were goners.

"god they're scary," he says, not sure if he means the tenma or their senior officers. beside him, haruichi laughs, half-hiccup, like he'd forgotten to breathe for a bit. eijun knows the feeling.

"yeah," he says, a fierce pride in his tone that makes eijun turn to look at him. "they really are."

*

"you should really be more careful," jun says, arms crossed and looming over ryousuke by virtue of being the only one standing up.

"i'm fine," ryousuke says, dutifully holding his arm out to let youichi inspect the long, shallow cut curving across his shoulder. "tell him i'm fine, youichi."

"it's not that bad," youichi says, already dressing the wound with casual efficiency. they're used to this, eijun realizes from where he's huddled on the opposite side of the fire. he misses whatever else jun says while he tries to work out how often something like that has to happen for it to seem so comfortable, glancing up again in time to catch jun stomping off to his tent while muttering about _terminal recklessness_. "you really should be more careful though," youichi says, once jun's out of earshot, soft enough that eijun's positive that he's absolutely not supposed to hear it.

"don't you start scolding me too," ryousuke says, a lilt to his voice eijun doesn't recognize, softer than the mocking edge he's used to. he's got his face tilted up toward youichi's like he's expecting something.

"you know i worry," youichi says, touching the freshly tied bandage with gentle fingers. it's neater than eijun would have expected, from a rough guy like that.

ryousuke just hums and youichi seems to relent with a sigh, leaning down to... press his forehead against ryousuke's? there's something strangely tender about the hand he brings up to cradle ryousuke's jaw and eijun realizes with a start that they're _kissing._ oh, crap. he is definitely not supposed to be seeing _this_ , so he squeezes his eyes shut, hopeful that it doesn't count because it's not like he _meant_ to spy on them. he'd rather not be killed in his sleep.

"i'll be more careful," ryousuke says after the longest minute of eijun's life, and he didn't even know ryousuke could sound like that, soft and sincere and honestly kind of cute but eijun will never, ever admit to thinking so because he values his life.

"let's go to bed," youichi says, and eijun holds his breath until their footsteps fade.

he sits up once he's sure they're gone, wriggling out of his bedroll and crawling over to where haruichi is sound asleep in his own kit. "haruichi," he stage whispers, shaking his friend as gently as he can manage. "haruichi, wake up. did you know?"

"what, eijun," haruichi says, yawning his into hands and trying to scoot away from eijun without actually getting out of his bedroll.

"did you know? about your brother and—"

"oh my god, eijun. yes, everyone knows, please go back to bed."

"but—"

"goodnight, eijun," haruichi says, and rolls over, pulling the flap of his bedroll firmly over his head.

" _how does everyone know_ ," eijun says, wailing as softly as he can manage as he scuttles back over to his own bed. it's not actually very soft at all but it's warm out and not many people are camped around the central fire, leaving eijun to mull his crisis over by himself in the night.


	13. br 5: daiya no ace, kuraryou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> apparently i just want to put as many fairy tales into a blender as i can when given the opportunity to write them this year! idk if anyone has ever wanted a cinderella/swan lake/maybe sleeping beauty ig mash up but ???? here one is.
> 
>  
> 
> **prompt:**
>
>> Kuramochi in the ballroom with someone's discarded pair of dancing shoes.

at a quarter to midnight, youichi's left in the grand ballroom with empty arms and a pair of shoes, dropped one after the other like dewdrops quitting a rose, so light in his hands he's afraid they'll disintegrate. their owner has flown, evaporated in a flurry of silk and sound, the great rush of wings echoing like a thunderclap in youichi's ears. he's never seen that look on ryousuke's face before, the dark flash of surprise and fear in his eyes, lips parted as if to shout before he was swept out of the palace on an ominous wind. youichi clutches the feathered slippers to his chest and runs.

the first cries of alarm follow him out into the night, guards and guests alike recovering from the shock a beat behind their swift prince, too slow to stop him. youichi's already rushing headlong down the long curve of the grand steps, eyes trained on the sky and its profusion of stars, searching. there's nothing, no swan-shaped slice of shadow winging its way north. the sky is clear, cloudless, full-moon bright. empty. youichi curses and vaults over the stair railing, cutting toward the stables. he knows where to go.

*

the lake is as flat and still as a mirror when youichi gets there, the blaze of the moon across its surface nearly blinding. there's no drone of nighttime insects or call of birds, the hush so profound that youichi's horse seems to feel it, ears flicking uneasily where he leaves her tethered at the edge of the wood. the only movement on the water is a swan, gliding across the lake with its head under its wing, as if asleep. the soft blush shade of its feathers is clear in the bright wash of moonlight, but it doesn't stir when youichi calls out. he tries again, the name heavy on his tongue: _ryousuke!_. 

nothing.

youichi wades out as far as he can, the water slipping chill fingers down his spine, soaking his finery. the swan drifts, motionless, moved by some current youichi can neither see or feel. _ryousuke,_ youichi says again, up to his chest in the lake, teeth starting to chatter, rattling against the syllables. the swan doesn't wake but the lake seems to shift, the third call of that name ringing out across the night and turning the current, send it back toward youichi rather than away. 

the swan is warm and breathing, feathers silky against youichi's cold hands when it comes into range. it can't seem to hear or feel anything youichi says or does, perfectly still. youichi wraps an arm around it and struggles toward shore.


	14. br 6: daiya no ace, kuraryou, T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **implied mind control, still somehow no direct mention of death or the undead**
> 
> remix of [this fill](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21522.html?thread=10677266#cmt10677266) by ps!!

the abhorsen arrives at the perimeter just as the mist starts rising, flanked on either side by deceptive beasts. on one side, there's a white cat, green eyes glinting in the gloom. on the other, a great black dog, sharp muzzled and amber eyed, hair standing up every which way, half disappearing in the the dusk. colonel yuki tetsuya doesn't blink because he's been on the perimeter more than long enough not to. he recognizes the bright shade of the abhorsen's hair, the mahogany bell handles hanging down from the bandolier across his chest and, more than anything else, he recognizes the purposeful stride of someone who knows what they're doing. 

"colonel," the abhorsen says, once he's in range, inclining his head. 

"abhorsen," tetsuya replies. he doesn't salute but the urge to do it is there. 

"i still don't know what you expect me to do here," the cat says, and tetsuya does start at that but the abhorsen waves it aside.

"sorry about the delay," he says. "we ran into a bit of trouble." 

tetsuya shakes his head. "no, thank you for coming." there's a chill creeping into the air, something sinister and dark. the abhorsen is looking around with a critical eye, examining the ancelstierran machinery in various stages of failure. army command keeps insisting that it must be poor maintenance and tetsuya's given up getting them to understand otherwise. 

"i see," the abhorsen says, head tilted, clearly listening to something tetsuya can't hear. "i see we've got work to do. kuramochi?"

the black dog wags its tail before sitting back on its haunches and throwing its head back, letting out a long, low bay that tetsuya feels all the way down to his bones, locking his joints in place for a moment before the sound seems to push past him. 

"that should hold for a bit. colonel, tell me, are your charter mages ready?" the abhorsen is looking at tetsuya expectantly and tetsuya nods, clearing his throat. 

"yes," he says, turning to gesture at a group of their best charter mages, ragtag as the are. 

"wonderful," the abhorsen says. "please have them go with kuramochi and mogget—" here the cat hisses, sullen, and the dog bares its teeth, seeming almost to smile— "kuramochi will instruct them." 

"i'd still rather go with you," the dog says, its voice somehow familiar to tetsuya's ears, at the same time the cat starts yowling about how ryousuke owes him fish dinner for a year.

"yes, yes," the abhorsen says waving them both off. "let's get started, please. there's work to be done."


	15. br 6: daiya no ace, chriszaizen, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i finally wrote a chriszaizen this year!!! i've wanted this au for so long and i'm glad i finally got to write ridiculous ballet rivals chriszaizen.
> 
> remix of [this fill](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21522.html?thread=10443794#cmt10443794) by K!

"sure you're not just getting old, takigawa?" naoyuki says, from where he's doing his warm up stretches on the floor, because it's always _takigawa_ when he's trying to make a point, the curl of his lip as theatrical as the expressive line of his body when he dances. chris has spent enough time looking at both to see the relationship.

"oh, don't worry about me," chris says, leg up on the barre, watching naoyuki's movements in the studio mirrors. it's the most still he ever gets, outside of being on stage, holding an arabesque or standing on his mark, the moment of calm before he starts to dance. naoyuki's been called an 'explosive dancer' for the power in his legs but chris figures it suits him all around. chris's dancing is clean and powerful; naoyuki's is almost wild, something raw and primal in his every move. it's a magnetism that's served him well, gotten him roles that might otherwise have been chris's. chris should resent it, but he can never quite manage.

"who would worry about you," naoyuki says, and chris laughs instead of pointing out the contradiction. naoyuki's got his face on the floor now but the tips of his ears are red and chris counts it as a win. 

*

after rehearsal, they go to dinner. naoyuki's a little quieter, restless energy poured out into six hours of choreography refinement and a series of leaps and jumps passed between the two of them five times, each pass more difficult and ridiculous than the last before the director put a halt to their oneupmanship. chris got the last turn, so he supposes that's a win too. naoyuki seems to have forgotten or at least written it off as outside interference, letting chris drape an arm around his shoulders during the walk to the soba shop on the corner, grumbling into the scarf chris wrapped around his neck before they left the studio.

chris stops them a block before the restaurant, kissing the complaint out of naoyuki's startled mouth in the dim space between two streetlamps.

"what was that for," naoyuki says, once chris pulls away, habitual furrow between his eyebrows trying very hard to look annoyed rather than confused.

"i wanted to," chris says, as if he hasn't been thinking about it since they got to the studio, the day too crowded by costume fittings and make up tests and class for a moment alone. 

"well, obviously," naoyuki says, straightening his shoulders and chris kisses him again. 

"come on, nao," he says because he's allowed to use _nao_ when it's just the two of them like this. "dinner's on me."


	16. br 6: daiya no ace, kuraryou, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE BOYFRIEND SHIRT RYOUSUKE SO MUCH I WILL NEVER BE TIRED OF IT NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES IT'S DONE.
> 
> remix of [this fill](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/24808.html?thread=15603688#cmt15603688) by hayley!

ryousuke still seems half asleep at the airport, dressed in an old hoodie of youichi's that's decidedly too big for him and carelessly finger combed bedhead, but he smiles when he sees youichi. it eases something in youichi that he forgets can get tense, the stress of travel washing away at the sight of ryousuke waiting for him with a bag full of junk food. 

"you didn't have to come all the way down here for the redeye," youichi says, pressing a kiss to ryousuke's forehead. ryousuke shrugs in his arms, collar of the hoodie sliding to reveal a bare shoulder. he really did just roll out of bed and hit the konbini before coming to the airport, and youichi feels himself melting with fondness.

"who else is going to keep you out of trouble," ryousuke says, yawning as they start for the door. he lets youichi take the bag of snacks, leaning into the arm youichi slides around his shoulders. "you're always hungry after a long flight and you're always grumpy when you're hungry so, really, i'm performing a public service." 

youichi laughs, the sound hushed the way everything is in the early am. he _is_ tired but he couldn't be grouchy now if he wanted to, heart swollen with tenderness and thoroughly disarmed. "you know me so well," he says.

"i should hope so, by now," ryousuke says, trying for haughty and missing entirely. he must not have gotten much sleep at all. youichi makes a face, mainly because he would like to kiss ryousuke and they're in public. 

*

"i'm going to shower but you should go back to bed," youichi says when they get home, bag of half-eaten snacks abandoned on the kitchen counter and ryousuke now looking thoroughly kissed in addition to being adorable and sleepy. it's kind of irresistible but youichi is an adult and capable of behaving himself. 

"mmm okay," ryousuke says, tilting his face up to allow youichi one more kiss before he shuffles off toward the bedroom. youichi watches him go, hands half hidden by the hoodie sleeves, hair only more mussed where youichi's put his hands on it. it's good to be home.

ryousuke's already asleep when youichi slides into bed next to him, jeans discarded in the hamper and hoodie tossed over the back of a chair. youichi kisses his temple and arranges himself around him, entire body relaxing the way it only can in his own bed. "good night," he says to the familiar dark of the room, and closes his eyes.


	17. br 7: daiya no ace, kuraryou, T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **major character death**
> 
> it's a pacrim au ok. the prompt was the kwoon room scene but i wrote this instead bc i'm terrible tbh... and now i'm gonna write more of it with ewa so like. be prepared for that at some point LOL.

"i was supposed to protect him," ryousuke says, the light from the jaeger's construction rig painting his face hazy blue. he looks pale, washed out, the bright rose sheen of his hair flattened into a night grey ghost of itself by color and shadow. youichi reaches for his hand. there's nothing to say, after something like that, youichi living every memory ryousuke's ever had of his little brother in a matter of seconds. everything, from the very first time he ever saw haruichi, red-faced and apple-cheeked in their mother's arms, to the very last, the tumult of anger and fear rebounding between them before haruichi was just gone, ripped from the jaeger out into an angry sea. "he was better than me," ryousuke says, cheek resting against the arm he has folded on the lower platform railing, legs dangling out over the edge. "i used to resent it."

youichi shifts closer, lifting ryousuke's hand to press a kiss to his knuckles. he knows that too, felt it in his gut, white-hot and piercing before it was swallowed by the dull ache of shame. ryousuke's eyes are closed now, long lashes casting faint charcoal shadows on his cheeks. the jaeger retrofit is nearly done, twin reactor core tuned and ready to burn, two tons of metal and carnage brought to bear against the breach itself. two tons of metal piloted by two soft human bodies, two beating hearts, two sets of shoulders to carry the weight. guilt, fear, hope, vengeance, survival. 

"i'm glad you came back," youichi says, and ryousuke laughs, a soft, tired little sound. 

"i didn't want to," he says, tugging youichi closer until they're shoulder to shoulder, pressed against each other in the blue light. this far above the shatterdome floor, the clamor is all but inaudbile, even the sound of metal on metal from the retrofit seeming distant and quiet, their own little bubble of space.

"i know," youichi says, smile crooked. _i felt everything,_ is what he means, as much as anything, but that he knew even before. there are a lot of things, he's realizing, that he didn't need the drift to know. ryousuke's never been as much of a mystery as he pretends to be, and youichi's learned him better than most.

ryousuke shifts to lean against him without answering, his weight familiar and warm, head settling against youichi's shoulder same as ever. his palm is calloused against youichi's, rough with years of manual labor, high up on the coastal wall, the penance of surviving. "i'm glad it's you," he says, finally, watching the light change as the jaeger's reactor core comes online, both of them bathed in its violent sunset red. 

"who else would it be," youichi says, pressing his lips to the whorl where ryousuke's hair parts. "we're going to fight the apocalypse. i wouldn't want to face it with anyone but you."


	18. br 7: daiya no ace, chriszaizen, T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **offscreen violence**  
>   
> 
> based on that kingsman chriszaizen terajima drew for their bdays a year or two ago.... i have an entire au laid out tbh, i really wanted to keep their history rather than make them strangers... i actually don't like kingsman that much but i love these two.

things zaizen naoyuki has never considered before today: what his old friend chris would look like with glasses, or what he would look like wiping the floor with no fewer than five neighborhood toughs. garden variety but bold in numbers, falling to the onslaught of chris's unexpected combat prowess like so many weeds. it's shocking, and also kind of hot, because chris looks like an accountant in that get up. a hot accountant.

and, okay, maybe naoyuki had had a crush, back in the day. so what? he'd never said anything, never intended to, especially once they fell out of contact, and he certainly never expected chris to come back into his life like this, all slicked back hair and weaponized umbrellas. naoyuki had been expecting to come out for a drink with an old friend, shoot the shit, reminisce a little, maybe have a laugh over missed opportunities if chris was going to push him, but there was no way he could have been prepared for _this_.

"your hair looks dumb," he says, and chris raises an eyebrow, somehow still pristine in the wreckage of the bar.

"this is for repairs," he tells the barkeep, sliding the biggest roll of bills naoyuki has ever seen across the splintered counter top. "come along," he says, to naoyuki this time, rolling down his sleeves and refastening his fancy cufflinks. who wears cufflinks to a place like this? naoyuki bristles but complies, taking one last look over his shoulder at what used to be his neighborhood's classiest dive. he throws chris's jacket at his face as soon as they're outside. he'd almost forgotten he was holding it.

"haven't seen you in a while," he says, like he didn't just watch chris take down five grown men at least mostly as big as him and destroy an entire building besides. chris's smile is demure, not quite apologetic. faintly smug, if naoyuki hasn't completely lost the ability to read him.

"it has been a while," chris says. "but i have a proposal for you." naoyuki snorts. 

"does it have anything to do with that mess?" he says, gesturing behind them. they're hotfooting it away from the bar at a brisk but unhurried pace, naoyuki matching his stride to chris's longer one as much as he can without obviously stretching. 

"not exactly," chris says, eyes warm and amused behind those stupid black plastic glasses. naoyuki decides that he hates them. "but we can teach you how to do that." 

" _we_ , huh," naoyuki says, stopping dead on the corner. "no thanks. i can take care of myself." 

"i know," chris says, hand on naoyuki's elbow, not quite pushing but still urging him forward. "and i know things didn't work out and i wasn't there when you needed me. and i'm sorry. but you could be more than this, nao. i know it. i know you." 

"do you," naoyuki says. he pulls his arm away but starts walking again, and chris seems content to let him pick the direction. thing is, naoyuki doesn't have a direction. he hasn't for a long time now.

"let's just say that my employer has a job opening," chris says, "and i'd like you to try for it."

naoyuki shakes his head, looking up at the sky. trust chris to undersell something like this. "i get the feeling this is going to be a long day," he says, and chris laughs.


End file.
